


Specialty Fragrance

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Actual warning for having sex around animal carcasses??, Episode Tag, M/M, Making Up, Prompt Fill, Smut, Uh...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Jesse took Cass up on that offer for a shag? </p>
<p>(Prompted by 80sworld on tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Specialty Fragrance

**Author's Note:**

> Well... this fandom is certainly testing my "I don't write smut" declaration. Apologies to readers, and 80sworld in particular, if this effort was in vain.

Theirs was far from a conventional romance.

 

In the aftermath of his words Jesse fixed on, of all things, the smell. He figured you couldn’t live two days in a room without leaving something behind, and Cass lived in a manner as few ever had or ever would—surprisingly animated for the dead. He’d left remnants that were, frankly, an assault on all the senses. Sitting there Jesse was overpowered by the scent of blood (obviously) both old and new splashes from the floor to the wall…but beneath that was the musty scent of old sheets, the dust of Tulip’s shitty air conditioner, the grease from non-animal meals, sweat, the strong scent of urine (he couldn’t leave for the restroom _god_ ), and of course, the crispy, charred smell of Cass’ own flesh, too similar to Tulip’s BBQ chicken for his stomach to deal with.

 

So Jesse was more than a little surprised when he swallowed hard and instead of nausea, discovered the familiar, heady weight of arousal.

 

“You want to have sex?” he asked, emphasizing his words so that Cass knew he was incredulous about the timing, not the act itself. Jesse knew when the man was joking and when he was _joke_ -joking. Now was definitely the latter.

 

Sure enough, Cass’ grin faded. He’d mustered it up real quick when things had started getting sappy. Jesse was learning how to recognize humor as a defense mechanism too.

 

Shit. He was starting to sound like Emily.

 

That was a jarring enough thought to get Jesse back on track. He looked away from the slim angles of Cass’ torso and the new contours of his skin, standing quickly and

putting distance between them. He’d let the man burn less than forty-eight hours before. Jesse didn’t have the right to touch him now.

 

“How ‘bout we wait ‘till you’re healed,” he muttered.

 

If Cass picked up on any of this he didn’t let it show. Within moments they were back to how they had been—or perhaps it was just the reflection of what Jesse thought they’d had—because for all the fast-paced jokes and crude banter, he was drawn more by Cass’ body than he was by his words. That had never happened before. Jesse told himself it was the horror of the situation, sick fascination with third-degree burns and the apparent ease that came with them. He watched as Cass fiddled happily with a phone from heaven and blurted, “Don’t they _hurt_?”

 

Cass grinned, a little wild, the sort of smile that told Jesse he wasn’t going to like the answer he had to give.

 

“These?” Cass rotated an arm, letting the burns glisten in the light. “Bloody sun took me down to the bone, padre, you saw. Nerve endings went up in smoke too. Reckon I’ve got, oh... another hour or so before they start screamin’ like a pack a’ sopranos,” and the last part sounded too much like a challenge to resist.

 

Maybe it was the time limit that drove him, the idea that if Jesse didn’t have him now he couldn’t have Cass at all for who knew how long. Or maybe it was the way he sat, oddly provocative in cut-off sleeves and a temptingly loose pair of jeans. Right? When did Jesse ever care about rights? He took a step forward and felt immediate relief. Maybe this was better. Different, at least, then standing fixed while Cass burned.

 

“Get in the position you were before,” he ordered.

 

It took Cass a moment, but when he understood his eyes flashed iron. “Thought we were waitin’,” he teased, but one look from Jesse shut him up fast. With awkward, fumbling moves he tore the shirt off his chest and returned to the corner, kneeling there obediently for him. It landed his ass in the carcass of some sort of rodent; whatever was now between his feet, nameless. Once again Jesse looked on the horror and felt a quickening of his pulse, blood in his ears, sweat down his back, and his dick straining up against his jeans. None of it stemmed from horror.

 

Jesse leaned against the bed’s foot-board, seeing how much of the old thing would take his weight. It held.

 

He wondered if the old man before him could take his weight too.

 

“Fuck yourself,” he said and with two words Jesse dismantled him.

 

Cass threw himself back amongst the bodies, not caring one bit about the fur and the bones beneath him. He shucked his pants and Jesse let out a soft gasp—pale, skinny legs entirely unmarred from the sun. His sweats must have protected him that day and the contrast between the two halves of Cass’ body looked like some strange work of art. Like a painter who’d abandoned their work halfway through.

 

“You’re a masterpiece,” Jesse said, letting the words slide out sarcastically. Cass took the briefest moment to throw him the finger.

 

Then he paused, rotating the digit contemplatively.

 

“This what you were thinkin’ of, padre?”

 

Cass was once again smeared with blood and he stuffed his finger in his mouth with greedy abandon, sucking it so hard his lips rolled back, letting Jesse see the slide of teeth over mangled flesh. When the blood was gone he pulled it out with a wet ‘ _pop!_ ’, crouching forward with one hand for balance, beginning to finger himself. Cass tried to keep his grin in place, but Jesse saw the exact moment he’d stretched enough to hit a spot worth paying attention to. Cass let out a curse… and it seemed too quiet in the crowded room.

 

Jesse swallowed hard. “Keep going,” he said and came forward, his steps slow and deliberate, measured to keep Cass waiting. He was rocking now, balanced on his toes and occasionally pressing back into the wall behind him, little moans starting to escape from grinding teeth. Cass’ expression had morphed back into the vulnerable one Jesse had seen before, when he’d said that putting him out was what _mattered_. As if sensing the comparison, Cass turned his face away.

 

None of that. Jesse surged forward and took his chin roughly, forcing eye contact. “Enjoying this?” he demanded.

 

Cass managed a wobbly, crooked grin. “Fingers are a bit rougher than normal,” he hissed.

 

“Good,” and Jesse shoved him into a kiss.

 

It wasn’t like kissing anyone else, not that Jesse was at all surprised. Cass’ words had been slurred since he’d arrived, his lips not functioning properly yet, and Jesse wondered, suddenly, if he could feel any of this at all. Maybe it didn’t matter to him, because Cass seemed concerned only with giving as much as he got. Every touch of his skin was a bumpy grind and flaming hot to boot. Jesse licked and caught a taste of all the foul things Cass had been feeding on. He released a cry that ended in a growl.

 

Cass pulled back roughly. “You like me down here,” he accused. “With the rest of the _filth_.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Jesse hauled him up. With no clothes to grab onto he settled for Cass’ upper arms, feeling how slippery—how fragile—the skin was there. He guided Cass roughly into the foot-board, letting up only at the last second, right before he hit the wood. Even so the whole frame rattled, punctuating Jesse’s words: “I’m just the one to bring you out of it.”

 

It startled a laugh out of Cass, the first bit of genuine humor of the day.

 

“Fuckin’ savior complex.”

 

Jesse wouldn’t deny it. He just bent Cass over the foot-board, waiting until he saw gnarled hands clutching the sheets, running his own hand softly down the bones of Cass’ back. Jesse moved to cradle his hips, right at the line where burns turned to smooth skin... except there _was_ a single blemish on the side of Cass’ right thigh; a red, angry blotch that had somehow snuck its way in. Jesse moved one hand there so he didn’t have to see it.

 

“Don’t have lube,” he warned, already grinding between his cheeks.

 

“Do I look like I fuckin’ need lube, padre? I’m gonna be screamin’ this here roof down in the next half an hour an’ I swear, you don’t give me somethin’ decent to feel right the fuck now I’m gonna—”

 

“What?” Jesse had reached forward to grab Cass’ dick, effectively shutting him up. “You’ll do what _exactly_ , Cassidy?”

 

“I’ll feed off a’ you next,” he threatened, but the whole thing was tempered by the whine in Cass’ voice, the press of his ass as he ground back just as desperately.

 

Jesse opened his jeans, quick as he could. “Your welcome to,” he said and slid into Cass the moment his muscles relaxed in shock.

 

This too was different. The heat was excruciating, and Jesse’s only coherent thought was that is must be a result of his sin: the burns invading his body, a fever as it tried to heal. Cass ripped the old sheet between his hands and howled against the wood, Jesse setting a punishing rhythm he might have let up on if Cass didn’t sound joyous in his wails. Jesse also felt something unquestionable then, whispering Cass’ name again and again in a manner too far gone to realize they weren’t actually whispers. The body beneath his felt inhumanly hollow, and Jesse was more than happy to fill it.

 

It was the smell that did him in. Blood and dust and urine obliterated the moment Cass came against the foot-board. Jesse caught one whiff and quickly followed, pressing them both so hard he heard the wood creak.

 

A second later Cass’ legs buckled. Jesse didn’t know if it was the orgasm or his body failing, not that he gave a damn. He got one arm around his waist and tugged him to the side, up and onto the bed. The two of them crowded together on the very edge of the mattress, Cass’ furrowed arms slung over Jesse’s chest, legs tangled with his, feeling cold in comparison. He let out short huffs of laughter.

 

“What?” Jesse asked, breathing deep.

 

“Nothin’, just forgot about the audience. Fuckin’ voyeur, ain’t you, mate?”

 

Jesse turned to find Miles staring up at him from the floor, face a pasty gray. His cheeks were hollowed out. His eyes bulging. If there was anything accusing in that stare, Jesse chose to ignore it.

 

“Bury him after you heal some more?”

 

“Aye.” Cass raised a hand to his lips before dropping it back down. “Jesus. Would kill for a cigarette, yeah?”

 

Jesse shook his head. “Not sure you need to be anywhere near fire at the moment.”

 

“Aw, fuck you. But y’know, padre, this fire, this one right here—” Cass thumped above his heart, face comically earnest. “This you won’t be puttin’ out any time soon, I swear it.”

 

“That’s awful...” but Jesse grinned, running a hand over his face to hide it. He was lightheaded and he could feel his pulse in every limb. Cass’ desire for a cigarette had already spread. Viral.

 

“I’ll get the Camels,” Jesse muttered, hauling himself up with a groan. “You just lay there, useless shit.”

 

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely. I’ll be storin’ these feelins’ for the comin’ hours, thank you kindly.”

 

Jesse left him like that, blissed out on the bed and passing glances that he couldn’t tell if Cass actually wanted him to see. His jeans were constricting, sticky now too, and Jesse left with them only half done up. There was no one but Cass and the dead to see.

 

Tulip kept a pack hidden in the flowerpot outside, like where one would normally hide a spare key. Jesse caught his first breath of fresh air as he dug cigarettes out of the dirt.

 

It was too sweet. Cloyingly so.

 

He turned, much preferring what he had back inside.

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to stop by my tumblr (itsclydebitches) and send me a prompt!]


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